Harley, Quit
by Alice Tannis- The Sixth Siren
Summary: 5 Years A Slave Challenge. She doesn't remember. She can't remember. Was it her, did- did she do it? Was this a kidnapping or a savior mission? Will she make it out and see her Mistah J once again? (So she can punch him, and then kiss him, obviously.) This whole ordeal will idealy be over in a few days, but with her luck, she'll be stuck here for five years...
1. (1) Preparations To Be Made

She looked up and moaned. "Oh…" She looked around through fogged up eyes. She tried to turn her head, and a sharp pain stung through her neck. She reached up and pulled a dart out of her skin. "Hm?" She noticed the design on the side. "But that belongs to puddin'…" She looked up and saw a shadow, now that her vision had somewhat cleared. "Mistah J?"

"You're awake. I'm not Joker, however." The figure was hidden in the shadows.

"What did you do to him?!" She tried to stand up, and a forceful shock flowed through her body. She fell back into the chair.

"We didn't do anything, Harley. You should be asking what _you_ did to him."

"I'd never hurt my puddin'." The jester snarled at the shadow. "I love him, and he loves me. My Mistah J would never let me hurt him! I can barely get close without him pushing me…" Harley closed her eyes. "Who- Where are we? Gotham?"

"No. Far from it. We are in a town known as New York City."

"Wait, New York. But why here? There are thousands of people, and puddin and I have kidnapped more than a few people. You don't want to take them to a populated area."

"This isn't a kidnapping. You were handed over. Also, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you've been asleep for a long time, Harleen." Harley shivered, and closed her eyes tight.

"Don't use my name. You don't have the right."

"Oh, but I _do_ , Harleen." Quinn clenched her fists and looked at the figure.

"Stop! You're lying!" She tilted her head up and screamed at the ceiling of the tall room. "Mistah J, Where are you!" She let her head fall, and began crying. "Get me out, puddin'. Please! I know you're there! Please…"

"Oh, stop, you child." Harley looked ap at the sound of her Joker.

"Puddin'!" She smiled, and then remembered something. "Wait, you drugged me! The needle… but, but… Mistah J, I thought-"

"I'm sorry, Harls. It has to be this way…" He stepped back into the shadows.

"No! Please! Come back, MISTER J!" She began crying again, and two men came up from behind her. She heard that sound she oh, so hated. Duck tape. "No. Don't!" One of the men held her head still, to keep her thrashing from affecting where the other placed the tape. The taller man placed the tape over her mouth, and then bound her hands behind her back.

"Take her away. I don't want to see her until tomorrow. Get her in her cell and into some more… appropriate clothes." They dragged her away, muffled screaming coming through the tape.

 _Later…_

Harley sat on in her cell, on the floor. Her costume had been replaced with a short dress and a coat, much like the one she wore when she worked at Arkham. They had taken her hood, and her blonde hair fell over her shoulders."Oh, Harley. What did you do to Mistah J?" She tried to recall his face from that brief moment she saw him back in the other room.

She felt like she was missing something, but she couldn't remember what it could be. In fact, she couldn't remember anything from before she woke up about an hour ago. There was one vivid picture that kept repeating in her mind whenever she thought about him.

A knife, Puddin's "Pop" gun, her bat, the needle she'd pulled out of her neck, and someone's blood, most likely hers. A blueprint laid underneath, and she couldn't help but feel a cold, sharp something pressed against her jaw, however, the entire room felt freezing. The words "You failed, Harley, You failed." echoed in her mind, but they were her own words. She had said them.

She snapped back to focus when one of the men pounded on her cell door. "Hey, get up of your butt, and lets go!" Quinn stood, and fell onto the wall. She held her head. "Come on! Now." That commanding tone, that she knew only as a signal for "Do you want punishment?" Snapped her back to her feet, fighting off the pain. Even when Joker wasn't there, she was afraid she'd be tormented into believing it was still love.

"Yes sir…" She whispered. The man tied her hands together once she was outside, and pushed her along.

"People will pay a lot for you, little miss lovestruck." She looked around at the other cells and noticed that she was the only one here. She also noticed the gun on the man's belt...


	2. (2) 'Member me, Harls?

_Oh, god. This is a bad idea, but what the heck,_ she thought _, I frickin Harley Quinn._ She swerved away from the man's hand on her back and jumped over her hands. The chain between them worked as a strangulation device, and he soon fell unconscious.

She grabbed the gun from his belt and continued on, looking for more prisoners. She continued down the long hallway, trying to see through the old, broken, blackened glass. She heard a thump from behind her, and she turned the gun towards the general area of the sound.

"Are you… who I think… you are?" The voice was raspy, and the face hidden by the dirtied glass. It took gasps of air between words. "You… look familiar. Um… Arkham? Are… you from Arkham Asylum?"

"Who wants to know?" Harley cocked her eyebrow, as well as the gun.

"You wouldn't remember me. It was… a long time ago. But, perhaps you… do remember? I am… Doctor Stellora Xandra… or, "Stitches", if you remember that…" Harley watched as the black was somewhat cleared off as the figure slowly slid down the glass, her arm creating a streak of clear-ish glass.

"Wait, Stellora? You're one of my former clients from Experimental Confinement: Arkham Division, right? You were my client because you were going crazy because of Puddin', just like me. I thought you committed suicide in the lab."

The woman gave a long, dry sigh. "No. That's what my… _advisors_ wanted the other departments to believe. They sent... me to The Joker. And he put me... in a sleep, much like your's, but I was... not so easily sadated. They locked me up, and... left me to rot here. You won't believe how quiet it is, how peaceful, it makes me want.. to just sleep… but the AI won't let me."

"The AI? What do you mean?" Harley put a hand on the glass and crouched next to it, her height now matching the experimental victim. "What were they doing it that lab?"

"Can you… get me out? The air in here... it's almost toxic. It doesn't help... my current state very much. I would be... much obliged, Dr. Harleen. I really missed you, just so you know. I remember the first time... we went out to lunch together… the day they certified me as sane, and then... recalled it when I began to dissect... that stray cat? Remember? You were the one... who turned me back into Arkham!"

Doctor Xandra continued talking, and Harley tried to find a way to open the chamber. She found a panel next to the glass, and pulled the lever. The glass grinded apart, and Stellora stopped her story and breathed in the air.

"That's nice… Thank you, Harley."

"Don't mention it, Stitch. You know, that nickname suits you even better now, huh?" Harley smiled, and helped the other woman stand up.

"Why do... I still like you, Quinzel?"

"Obsession, Obsessions, hard to get away from." Harley sang softly.

"True that. So, can you... reboot my systems so I can, you know, function?"

"Of course, Puddin!" She smiled, then looked Stitch up and down. "Um, how do I do that?"

"My back, obviously." Stitch watched as Harley smiled.

"Oh… Kay? Um, how do I, you know, reach that? You're kinda clothed."

"Oh, Harley... shut up."

"What? It kinda makes it hard." Stitch rolled her eyes and untied her vest.

"God, I hate you." She pulled off the leather and turned so Harley could see her back. "Just unzip the shirt, because I am not... getting half naked... in front of you, you crazy nutso."

"Aw, man. Fine…" Harley unzipped the t-shirt's back and found a small panel between her shoulder blades.

"Ok, so press the blue button, and then the green one. Do Not press the pink one."

"What's the pink one do?"

"Harley!" Stitches looked over her shoulder at the other woman.

"Okay, Okay, Jeez." Harley pressed the two buttons, and she saw Stellora shiver.

"Your hands are frickin cold. Okay, you can put my shirt back together now." Harley rolled her eyes and zipped the shirt up again. While Stitch retied her vest, corset style, Harley decided to dance a little, because, you know, Harley Quinn.

Stitch finished tying her vest and turned to look at the dancing Harley. "You really are crazy, now, ain't cha?" Stitch smiled, stopped her, and gave her a hug. "I like that. Looks like we have more than The Joker and Arkham in common now." Harley hugged her with one arm, and then looked up at the flashing lights.

"Uh, Stitch? What do those mean?" She pointed to the spinning glow with the gun.

"We should go, is what those mean." Stitch's leg glowed a bright blue, and then her right arm. "Come on, Harl. On my back."

"What? You really are screwed in the head, aren't you, puddin?" Harley put a hand on her hip and smiled her huge, jester smile.

"Believe it. Get on, now! They're coming!" They heard a door at the other end of the hall burst open, and Harley jumped onto Stellora."Hold tight, Harls. It's gonna get electric up in here." Before Harley even knew what was happening, Stitch took off out of the cell, down the hall, through the doors, and out into the main room.

Stellora could run faster than she looked capable of, as well as faster than any person Quinn had ever met. The robotic technology and removal of various "unnecessary" body parts had rendered her a living tank. Most of her body parts were either completely AI controlled, or attached to her brain in some way, shape, or form that was unnatural. Her various scars, lights, and stitches were the result of two years of scientific AI studies and implants. So, basicly, she had two brains.

"So, uh, Stitch? How are you?" Harley finally said after she got used to the speed. Another ten bullets flew past them.

"Not a good time to talk, Quinn!" She looked up at Harley, and gave her a look.

"Right, right, the guards." Harley turned as far as she could and began to shoot back at the guards, hitting a few in the knee (really getting old reference (TROLL) ), a few in the arm, a few in the head. "Right now, you know what I want, Puddin? My bazooka. Or my babies. Or both!" Stellora looked up at Harley again.

"Harl, shut up and shoot them! This place is a freaking maze. Stop talking and let me concen-!" She was cut off as she slammed into a wall because she'd been talking, and they both blacked out.


	3. (3) It Begins

"Fricken. Ow." Harley looked up at the room she was in. Stitches stared her in the eyes and brought a finger to her lips.

"Quiet. They're coming again. Pretend you're still unconscious." Harley couldn't really object to a bit more relaxing. She slouched back over and almost fell asleep when the door opened.

"Hey, she up yet, Project Stupid?" Stitches rolled her eyes.

"What's your next smart name gonna be, meathead?"

"Watch your mouth, miss. Wouldn't want you all beat up, now would we?" He smirked and grabbed her arm. "Especially someone so lovely."

"Yeah, yeah. I haven't heard that one before." She pulled her arm away. "But, no, she isn't awake yet."

"Musta hit her head good?"

"Uh huh." The men walked out of the room, and Stitches uncrossed her arms. "Dim wits, Harley. They're dim wits. They didn't even bind us." Harley looked down at her hands. She was right.

"Why is this happening?" Harley held her forehead and leaned back it the chair. "What are they gonna do to us?"

"Sell us, or rather, they already did." Stitches recrossed her arms. "Tortured, objectified, harassed, put on display, _experimented on_." Her voice cracked a little at the last one. "We're just toys, now."

"To whom? Mistah J? I'm already a toy for him."

"You know, that'd be an improvement. No, a guy by the name of Eight Ball."

Harley managed a small laugh through the information. "Heh, Eight Ball."

"You won't be laughing once you meet him. He's evil, eviler than Batman."

"Worse than B-man? Didn't think it was possible. He's that bad, huh?"

"Yeah. He's part of some villain rehabilitation crap. Calls it the SAVE."

"Safe?"

"No, SAVE. Stop the Antics of Villains Experiment. Whoever came up with that is a total moron. I'm talking to YOU, author!" Stitches pointed at me, and Harley looked where she's pointing, then gave her a confused look.

"Uh, Stitch...? Earth to Stitch?" The concern was heavy off her voice, almost like they were back in a session.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Just pulling a deadpool. Hi guys!" She waved at you and smiled.

"Dead- who?"

"Deadpool, from Marvel? You know, the other universe of comic books?" Stitches pretended to open a book. "You know, Captain America and stuff...? Ugh, never mind. Guess I should stop talking about stuff like that. My brains is way more technological than yours, anyway. You probably never even heard of Disney." She waved it off. She gave a quick two fingered salute to you before turning back to Harley.

"Ok, then… So, Eight Ball, he _bought_ us?" Harley shook her head and rested her elbows on her knees. Stitches shrugged.

"Pretty much. He owns us now, so be good. I don't feel like getting a nine- tails for his pleasure again. He definitely likes you more than me. Staring at you like that…"

"Like what?"

"I can't even begin to show you." Stitches leaned back against the chair, one elbow resting on the back. "I've never seen someone look at you like that. _Except me_. But-"

"So if you've looked at me like that, why can't you describe it?"

"Sometimes it just happens. But he's doing it on _purpose_."

"And you have no idea why it happens to you?"

"Hey, ya got me there. You're the doctor, not me." Stitches shrugged again.

"Once upon a time, we both we're. How did it come to this?"

"Many years of bad luck, Honey Red."

"Hey, Red is Ivy's nickname!" She smiled and Stitches laughed.

"It was your's first." She said in a childish tone, crossing her arms and turning away. "Hmph."

"Aw, does the poor baby feel forgotten?"

Stitches looked at her and smiled, and then they both laughed quietly. Suddenly, the door flew open and two men walked in holding ropes and cloths. "Alright, ladies time to start your duties!" One of the men slipped one of the cloths into Stitch's mouth while the other tied the rope to Harley's hands. Then they switched and pushed both of them out the door. As they walked along they could hear laughing and the clink of glasses. They pushed them further down the hallway until they came to a large, metal door. One of the men input a code into a wall panel, and the door slid open.

As soon as Stitch glanced into the room, she began screaming through the gag in her mouth. Her body surged with the lights again. This room was a science lab. Harley stared at her friend, and then looked around the room they'd been forced into. It was familiar in a way. They men pushed them into the chairs, and Harley remembered...

(Yes, I know Harley can break the fourth wall. This ain't comic book Harley, K? Geez.

Can you guess what this room is? Hint: Shock Chairs and much frizzy hair… "I'm back bitches!" might ring a bell…)


	4. (4) Torture and Betrayal

Harley's mind snapped, and she realized that something here had left a sort of mark on her memory because she knew this place. She pushed her gag out with her tongue and laughed. "Well, ain't it been a long time since I was in here." Harley looked around the room. "Three windows, five chairs, two tables, a huge multi-screen computer and a control box. I dunno what kinda joke you're playing, Eddie, but it ain't funny!"

"Shut up!" One of the men yelled at her. Then he leaned over to his buddy who was trying to get Stitch under control. "Who the hell is Eddie?"

"I dunno, but let's just get 'em hooked up and torture 'em already. This one needs to scream a bit more." He answered sarcastically, looking at Stitch. The men lead them to the chairs and pushed them in.

"This room looks different. Get new walls boys? Nah, I got it. Ya shipped the whole room here on a plane, then had to fix all the horrible damage ya did to it!" Harley laughed as she watched the two lock her and Stellora's arms into the cuffs. "You do realize that this was made to disarm bombs in people's heads, right?"

"Look, you little bitch, I don't know who this Eddie guy is and why you think you know where you is, but you don't." One man said. The other rolled his eyes and pulled out Stitch's gag.

"You bastards! I'm gonna fucking kill you when I get outta this goddamned chair!" Stitch yelled, struggling against the metal.

"Stitch! Calm down!" Harley said, smiling. "This is Eddie's room. This all just one big prank by Mistah J. Don't worry 'bout it."

"Harley, you're an idiot! Not everything is funny! My Harleen would have known that!" Stitch answered, looking at her. "My Harleen Quinzel would have fought these guys tooth and nail to protect herself! That clown killed you!"Harley looked at her. She started to cry, looking away from the jester. "You're not her… the one I fell in love with. You're not my doctor. You're not my _friend_. You're crazy. My Harley kept others from going there. _You_ are not _her_."

She coughed, slouching down in the chair. "Just get it over with," She told the man at the console.

He smiled. "Gladly." He pulled a lever. The electric current flowed through the chairs and, by default, through the two women in them. Stitch was doing her best not to scream, trying to keep her breath. Harley didn't even acknowledge the shock, to worried about her friend to notice it. She watched as Stitch bit down on her lip, still crying. She drew blood, and this made Harley's heart hurt.

Even if she couldn't really remember her all that well, the image of her bleeding made her subconscious snap. They'd never dated, but Harleen always knew about Stellora's fascination with her. She remembered that much. " _It's the success and joy you bring to Arkham. Ya always know what to say to me. Plus, you're really pretty."_ Those were her exact words. Stitch had told her that was why she liked her.

But now, as she sat in that chair, all of those emotions seemed to evaporate out of her heart.

Stella now realized that this wasn't the Harley she'd worked with or against. This wasn't the woman who'd taken her out that day. This was some sick, twisted, play- with- emotions jester. This wasn't Harleen Quinzel, she was gone. This was Harley Quinn.

The shock stopped as the torturers noticed the almost silent noise level in the room. They both walked up to the victims, forcing the ladies' faces toward themselves.

"What seems to be the problem, huh? Too good for torture?" One yelled at Harley.

"We're lookin' for a bit more than a bloody lip, sweets." The other hissed. He reached up and slapped Dr. Xandra across the face. She looked back at him. Their eyes locked together, and her's glew blue.

"Get away from me… Now." She commanded. He backed away. The other looked at him and then at her. She switched her gaze to him. "Let me go." He walked over to her and unlocked the wrist cuffs. She stood up, wiped the blood off her chin, gave a quick glance at Harley, and walked out. As soon as she exited the room, the men snapped back to life.

"What in the heck just happened?" One asked, holding his head.

"I dunno, but one of 'em escaped, somehow."

"And she took my keys!"


End file.
